The Captain's Logbook
by RevSue
Summary: Shortly after the Centennial Day celebration, Carolyn finds the Captain's hidden logbook


_Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, and I make no money from this work of fiction!_

It had been a long day. Carolyn collapsed into bed after carefully hanging up the dress she had worn to the Seafarer's Ball. She shut her eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. Instead, she relived the moments in the Captain's arms – First as they waltzed around the living room before the ball, then later when he appropriated Claymore's body yet again at the ball. Perhaps this is what he had been referring to in his song of three months ago, when he hinted at being able to touch her? Could he have meant touch through someone else?

Rolling over and thumping her pillow, Carolyn couldn't quite believe that. Somehow she had the impression during that song that the Captain was capable of physically touching her. He was not just an illusion. She had spent hours the last few months dealing with her feelings over that possibility. It surely heralded a change in their relationship were it true. The Captain had arranged for Tim to find the words he had written especially for her, not withstanding his insistence that he had composed that bit of 'doggerel' years before. He must have meant to signal to her that he could be more solid than he appeared.

Carolyn had said nothing further to the Captain. Not yet. Not until she had rehashed everything in her mind. She knew that he was not comfortable expressing his emotions. In his day, such things were not discussed openly…Especially in their situation. Of course, their situation was unique. She also had to concede, if only to herself, that she was a private person, quite reticent when it came to sharing her deepest feelings as well. "We make a good pair." She said aloud, rolling over yet again.

"I beg your pardon, Madam?"

Abruptly shooting up in bed, Carolyn clutched the covers to her chest. "Captain? What are you doing in here?" She demanded.

"Merely passing through. I thought I heard you say something about a good pair? I do hope you were not referring to yourself and that bandy-legged strip of flab!"

"Never mind what I was referring to . . ." She began heatedly.

"Your grammar leaves something to be desired at this time of night, I must say. Still, I suppose one could refer to that limp jellyfish as a what rather than a who."

Carolyn flopped back on the bed and pulled the bedclothes over her head. "Goodnight, Captain Gregg!" Came her muffled words, sounding cross even to her own ears. Yet she found the corners of her mouth twitching as her sense of humor caught up with her. Yet another aspect of married life she missed – Talking in the dark!

She almost, but not quite, missed his next words.

"Good night, My Dear. It was wonderful reliving the past, and dancing with you tonight. I shall cherish the memory always."

Unable to move, thrilling to his husky voice, Carolyn knew he had vanished. Oh, how she loved him! She longed to be able to say something, to hear his tender words in return.

The next afternoon, Claymore brought over the Georgian silver tea service to put in the attic. He refused to even come in the house, claiming his exhaustion was debilitating.

"But you're the Grand Admiral!" Martha eyed him, puzzled. "You won all those contests yesterday, and even managed to dance the night away!"

"Please, don't remind me." He groaned. "Mrs. Muir, I do not want to see that tea service ever again, do you hear?"

Martha insisted on cleaning out the attic if the silver was to go there instead of going on display downstairs in Gull Cottage. "Mrs. Muir, I know what kind of a job you did up there last fall. You can't tell me that an hour would have made any dent at all in the dust! If I can't show off the silver, the least I can do is know that it's not completely hidden in dirt up there!"

When Carolyn rather nervously glanced at the Captain to see his reaction, he rolled his eyes, groaned, then briefly nodded and disappeared. She supposed that was all the permission she would get. Somewhat amazed that she had not heard any thunder, Carolyn wondered if perhaps he was starting to mellow! Then, armed with rags and a bucket and mop, the two women mounted the stairs to the attic.

As she stepped in, Martha looked around at the cluttered room. The Captain's desk was neat, except for a pile of charts in one corner. The love seat under the window was dust free, as was the table beside it holding two wine glasses and a decanter half full of a ruby-red liquid. Martha arched her eyebrows and looked consideringly at Carolyn.

"You drink up here? I didn't know you were a closet drinker, Mrs. Muir! What is it?"

She uncorked the decanter and sniffed. Carolyn raised a cloud of dust in the corner, and coughed, then said, "Martha, really!"

"Look at this mess! Maybe we should just get a front-end loader in and demolish the place. We could build it over again, without the dust bunnies!" Martha put down the wine and went over to help Carolyn move a chest.

Together they dusted, wiped down, coughed and cleaned for a couple of hours. The attic was beginning to look almost livable. Then Martha started digging further into the corners and around the edges of the room.

"Here's something!" she said, triumphantly, as she pushed her hand into a cubbyhole under the eaves. She pulled out a dusty old wooden box.

"What on earth . . . ?" Carolyn began.

"It's a ditty box!" exclaimed Martha in delight, blowing the dust off, and wiping off the engraved letters 'DG' with her apron.

"A ditty box?" Carolyn asked blankly.

"Ditty boxes were what sailors kept their small possessions in on a voyage. My great-uncle had one, and told me about them. They were small wooden boxes with a lock and key, in which seamen of the Royal Navy kept sentimental valuables, stationery, and sundry small stores. With the initials' DG, it's obviously Captain Gregg's." Martha explained. She turned the box over, and shook it gently. "With all the dust, it has been there a hundred years, too! I wonder where the key is?"

"You wouldn't open it, would you?" Carolyn raised her eyebrows.

"Of course." Martha said, matter-of-factly.

She explored the place under the eaves again. "More books." She pulled them out, tossing them on the table. "Your Captain was a writer, too, it appears!"

Carolyn opened her mouth, and then shut it again. Her Captain? She wondered why Martha worded it like that, but was afraid to make an issue of it. Then Martha crowed happily, "The key!"

Soon the ditty box was open. Inside, along with papers and a logbook, they found a ring that looked like intertwined gold ropes. In raised polished letters were the words 'mo anam cara' around a heart-shaped emerald.

"Very nice." Martha approved. "Wonder what language that is? Latin, I guess." She shrugged and began to paw through the papers.

"I don't think so." Carolyn spoke softly. "Gaelic, maybe? The Captain is . . . was Irish, I believe."

"Maybe the letters will say."

"You aren't going to read them?" Carolyn exclaimed before looking around to see if the Captain were anywhere in sight.

"They're from a Kathleen." Martha said. "I was hoping to find something from Vanessa's great-great-grandmother. But her name was Vanessa too, wasn't it? Not Kathleen . . . Vanessa was looking for some letters up here, and never did find any."

"Those letters were lost at sea," Carolyn said absently, wondering how she could read Kathleen's letters without Martha making a comment.

"How do you know?" Martha asked. Then she held up her hands, "No, don't bother answering. I don't think I want to hear anyway." She opened the logbook, and read a bit. "Oh, Mrs. Muir – Must be luck, but here's the same phrase that's on the ring in this book. 'Mo anam cara' means 'friend of my soul' in Gaelic! You were right. The Captain says here that his mother had this ring made in Ireland for his father. He was going to give it to Vanessa, but she didn't want an old ring."

"Foolish girl," murmured Carolyn, and she picked up the ring and turned it over in her hands. "It's beautiful." She slid it on to her right hand, but it was much too large.

"Well, it was a man's ring." Martha shrugged.

"They can be sized." Carolyn argued, wondering how the first Vanessa could possibly have said no to the Captain when it came to this lovely ring.

"Why don't you take this one, then, and size it for yourself?"

"Martha!" Shocked at the unexpected surge of desire to do just that, Carolyn quickly put the ring back in the box. "You know I wouldn't take something that wasn't mine."

"Let's not tell Claymore about finding it. He'd probably sell it."

Carolyn chuckled. As Martha continued to read the logbook, she picked up one of the letters, and looked it over. It was dated October of 1869.

"Dearest Daniel, I find it hard to believe that it has been two weeks since our wonderful night at the Seafarer's Ball . . .'

Dropping the letter hastily, Carolyn peered with Martha at the logbook instead. Seeing her interest, Martha obligingly held it at an angle so both could read. "I just got to the part where he won the first Seafarer's Games and was pronounced the Strongest Man in New England. I declare, Mrs. Muir, it made me shiver to read here what you wrote in that article. Amazing how you know so much about a man who lived so long ago. Here he writes about going to the Ball with a Kathleen, and how she was resplendent in green velvet. And he describes the ball itself. What a sight that must have been!"

"Yes . . . " Carolyn's eyes were glued to the page. Martha passed the book over, and turning the page, Carolyn read, 'Kathleen is so lovely, so graceful . . . Almost enough to help me forget Vanessa. And yet I am convinced that neither woman is the one for me. How do I know that? Am I that arrogant? Nay. I hold the vision of my love, my 'anam cara,' always in my heart. I shall never give up my search for her until she is found.'

Thoughtfully, Carolyn closed the book. She handed it back to Martha who returned it to the box and set it on the table. Picking up the top logbook on the separate pile, Martha opened it at random. A piece of paper fluttered out. Bending down to pick it up without looking at it, Martha read from the book, "'Today I finally gave the shawl to my true love, 'mo anam cara' as my father's ring says. It took years to find her, but at last she came to me . . .'" Martha looked up at Carolyn. "Do you think he's referring to the same shawl you found and gave to Vanessa when she was here?"

Carolyn's eyes widened. She had never told Martha that Vanessa had returned the shawl, and that the Captain had given the shawl to her . . . His true love? Could he possibly have been referring to her? "May I see the book?" She asked, wondering about the date.

Martha passed the book over, and Carolyn shot a glance at the top of the page. Sure enough, the inscribed year was 1968! Her whole being flooded with delight. Relieved that Martha hadn't noticed the hundred-year discrepancy, Carolyn flipped back a bit in the book, wondering what the Captain had written about the day they had arrived. In fact, she wanted to know what he had written the day she had cut down his Monkey Puzzle tree, and . . . Oh, the possibilities were endless! Here in her hands she held the key to the Captain's thoughts and innermost feelings!

Just then, Martha exclaimed, "Mrs. Muir! Look what fell out of that book! It's a picture of you!"

"Me?" Carolyn slammed the book shut and looked at the paper in Martha's hand. Sure enough, it was the page from the magazine that had put her picture above an article about her. She had agonized over which picture to send in, and had finally sent one that the Captain had seemed to like the best. She had later wondered where the magazine had disappeared to, finally concluding that they had garbaged it by mistake.

Martha quickly put the paper down on the table, biting her lip. "I think I hear the doorbell."

"Martha . . . " Carolyn couldn't think of anything to say. She was very glad to actually hear the doorbell at that moment.

Without another word, Martha hurried out the door and down the stairs. Then the Captain appeared, and at his thunderous countenance, Carolyn longed to scuttle downstairs herself to avoid the coming battle.

"I believe you have been reading my papers, Madam?" His voice was steely. "May I have my log book?"

Carolyn handed the book to the Captain, but carefully asked if he would read aloud the entry of the day of her arrival. "I'd like to hear your story about it," she peeked at him and smiled winsomely, "You write so beautifully."

Grumpily he assented, unable to resist her flattery, and flipping to the right page, he read aloud, "'Today a blasted female boarded my ship with two youngsters, a housekeeper and an infernal dog in tow. I tried to repel them, but they returned despite my wishes.'" He closed the book.

Carolyn stared at him, and the wonder in her eyes had a strange effect on him.

She must be admiring me for writing about her in the log, he thought.

He busied himself putting the logbook away. She still said nothing. Captain Gregg cleared his throat.

"You call that a story?" Carolyn said at last.

He blinked. "No. I call it a log entry."

He realized then that her wide-eyed wonder was not wonder at all, but profound displeasure and disbelief. Maybe he should not have used the word 'blasted' in relation to her, and 'infernal' when speaking of Scruffy, but confound it, it was his log book! "Well, what in blue blazes did you expect?" He asked, annoyed that she was finding fault with his words. "Shakespeare?"

"Captain, I've heard you tell many stories, and read some of your letters to Vanessa, remember? That entry seems so . . . So cold. So stilted. So . . . So factual!"

He glared at her. "This is not some penny melodrama! Nor is it a love letter! Might I remind you that it is an official log?"

"Who said official has to mean stilted and . . . And boring?" Carolyn challenged him.

That put him at a loss. How dare she speak to him like that? Him! Captain Daniel Gregg, late and present resident of Gull Cottage!

"And furthermore, Captain Gregg, is there some reason you cut out my picture and kept it in your book?"

"Of course." His answer was immediate and smooth.

Carolyn waited. And waited. Then she realized that he couldn't tell her his reason. She could guess, but if he actually said the words, he would appear too vulnerable, too human. It was enough that he had her picture . . . And that he thought of her as his true love! Thrilled anew at having read those words, albeit clandestinely, she threw up her hands. "All right! I'm sorry I read your diary . . ."

"It was my log, not my journal," he interjected.

Ignoring his comment, she continued, ". . . But I really think that something you don't want read should be kept locked."

"Just how do you propose I do that, Madam? I have yet to see a locked Captain's log."

"Well . . . well, just put it in your sea chest! You already told me not to go in there. Or that . . . That ditty box!"

"Need I remind you that you opened the locked ditty box and read that log book? And Martha read some of Kathleen's letters. I suppose I should consider myself fortunate that you did not discover my journal."

Carolyn was trapped; ashamed of herself, yet only half sorry that she had read those wonderful words in his log. Yes, his entry the day of her arrival was less than flattering, but he had more than made up for it. She longed to read the rest, but knew it was highly unlikely. The Captain was about to make a further comment, but just then, Martha called up to Carolyn. She avoided the Captain's annoyance and hurried down the stairs, to find Martha and the children in the foyer.

The doorbell had signaled the arrival of a telegram for Martha, with a request for her presence in San Francisco. Her niece had had her baby and was begging for help for just a few weeks. Martha was hesitating, but Carolyn urged her to go. "We'll be fine, Martha, really!"

"Just hungry." Jonathan said, a little dolefully.

Candy elbowed her brother, and then pasted a wide smile on her face. "Just think how glad we'll be to see you again, Martha!"

"And the presents you'll bring us!" Jonathan added.

"Jonathan!" Carolyn frowned at him. He shrugged and grinned unrepentantly at Martha.

She grinned back at him. "I'll see what I can find . . . perhaps a diaper? Or a baby biscuit." She teased the boy.

A few days after Martha's departure, the Williams' phoned and said they were going to be in Boston for a couple of days. They wondered if the children could stay with them for a night. Unfortunately, they didn't have time to come to Schooner Bay to pick them up, but Carolyn said she had a meeting with a publisher anyway, so would bring them to the city to meet their grandparents.

Early Saturday morning, Carolyn drove into Boston, meeting her parents in the parking lot by the U.S.S. Constitution. Jonathan and Candy were clamoring to be allowed to tour the ship. Emily and Brad were willing, glad to spend the day with the children while Carolyn saw her publisher and did various small errands. They arranged to meet later, and parted company.

Once her short meeting was over, Carolyn wandered down the street. Spying a chandlery, with various nautical articles in the window, she stepped in, hoping that perhaps she could find something to give to the Captain as an apology for attempting to read his logbooks. He had made sure she knew of his profound displeasure by avoiding her presence and surrounding Gull Cottage with a perpetual thunderstorm for the last three days.

A display caught her eye almost immediately, and she crossed over to it. Logbooks! The one that she noticed first had a polished wooden cover, with an etching of a schooner on the front and the words "Captain's Log" cut into it. She fingered the clasp that locked the book much the way it was possible to lock a five-year diary, then opened the logbook. Just inside was a place to store a pen across the top of the paper, two loops to hold it in position. Each page had faint impressions of tall ships and many-masted schooners rather like ghost ships covering the paper . . . The writing would go over them, but they would show through. The outside corners of each page had ships on them as well, drawn in bolder lines. Carolyn held her breath and turned the leaves carefully, unaware that a wistful look had crossed her face.

The store owner couldn't help but notice the beautiful woman who handled the book so reverently. He went up to her, and broke into her reverie by saying, "Masterful job, isn't it?"

Carolyn started, and then smiled at him. "It certainly is." Her fingers smoothed the pages as she closed the logbook. "I know someone who would love this."

"Obviously an old sea captain." Nodded the man. "I've sold quite a few to those gentlemen. The younger ones don't seem to care so much for the schooners. They prefer the engines. The someone you are referring to . . . he is an older person, isn't he?"

"Oh, yes." Carolyn looked down at the book again, and then turned it over looking for the price. She could not afford much, and undoubtedly this was beyond her means, but it would be so perfect for the Captain. "Could you tell me the cost?"

"Usually these sell for a hundred dollars each." Replied the man. He saw the light in her face dim with disappointment, and made an instant decision. "But this is your lucky day today, ma'am. Seventy-five percent off all items on this table."

Staring at him in astonishment, Carolyn wondered if he were joking. But he returned her look with a smile, and admiration lurking in his eyes. Carolyn looked down and turned the book over again, forcing a laugh. "I don't see anything wrong with it."

"We're getting a new shipment in," He explained. "We want to sell off as many of these books as we can before putting the next ones out."

"Is the cover oak?"

The man grinned. "Actually, it's made in South America. From a tree there – You've probably never heard of it. It's from a Monkey-Puzzle Tree. See, here on the inside of the back cover? The manufacturer has put a tiny picture of a Monkey-Puzzle tree along with the firm's logo."

Carolyn felt laughter bubbling up inside. A Monkey-Puzzle wood logbook cover for Captain Gregg! How completely perfect!

"I'll take it." She made the instant decision, and smiled enchantingly at him.

"I'm sure the old man will appreciate it very much." The man swallowed and gathered his thoughts together, rummaging for the box for the logbook.

"He will, indeed," Carolyn agreed, her delight making her eyes sparkle.

"Would you care for a quill pen to go with it?" The man inquired. "You did see the place for a pen, did you not?"

"Yes, indeed, but I think I will get a ball point pen. He seems partial to them." Remembering that the Captain had mentioned the ballpoint pen as one of the great inventions of this century, Carolyn felt joy bubbling up inside. The Captain was going to love this apology!

"Might I suggest this pen, then? And if you wish, there is a place to engrave the name on the side here." Showing her a pen, he explained the markings on it. "This winding around here is a Celtic knot chain, symbolizing eternal love and life. This fish is known as the salmon of knowledge. According to Celtic legend, the salmon is the oldest and wisest of living creatures. Swimming upstream on silver etched waves, this salmon links the wisdom of the past to the hopes of the future. This is truly a lifetime token of love, fit for the man you love."

"The man I love?" Carolyn repeated blankly. How had he known?

"I assume he is your grandfather or father?" Without waiting for her response, he inwardly halved the price of the pen for her, and then held it out with a smile.

"On sale as well . . . Half price . . . Just a mere ten dollars. Or would you care to look further?"

Carolyn hesitated only a moment, and then shook her head. "Oh no, that one is definitely the pen for him! You don't do the engraving, do you? I'm leaving Boston in a couple of hours, and would like to take it with me."

"I'm afraid not." He shook his head regretfully. "But you can take it just down the street. They can probably have it done within the hour, provided they aren't too busy."

"Thank-you so much for your help." Carolyn waited while he wrapped the items, and looked around the chandlery once more. "This is a beautiful store you have, with so many fascinating objects." She eyed a lamp on a pillar by the cash register, and reached up to rock it back and forth.

"That lamp is for a ship," The man explained. "It's an oil lamp, as you can see, and will keep the flame upright while the ship is moving even in heavy seas."

"It's wonderful . . . " Carolyn's voice trailed off. The Captain would love it, however she had already overspent her meager budget. "I'll keep this in mind for the next time I have some extra money." She fervently hoped she would not have to make another apology of this magnitude, but if she did, she knew what to get him!

"Come in anytime." The man handed her the bag with her purchases.

"Thank-you so much."

Carolyn's luck held, and she was able to get the pen engraved with the name 'Captain Daniel Gregg' as she waited. She opened the package with the logbook, and inserted the pen, then wrapped everything up carefully again. Then she met up with her parents and the children for a mid-afternoon snack.

"You're sure you're all right with Jonathan and Candy?" she whispered to her mother as they waited for coffee and milkshakes to come.

"Of course, dear. You go on home. We'll have these two home tomorrow afternoon." Emily smiled warmly at her daughter. "We are going to enjoy ourselves."

Dark clouds rolled in while they were in the restaurant, and a fierce thunderstorm shook the building.

"Seems to me it's always raining in Boston." Emily commented.

"Just like at Gull Cottage if the Captain's mad." Candy grinned. She had just recently found out about Captain Gregg, and hadn't learned to be quite as discreet as her younger brother.

Jonathan kicked her under the table and smiled at his grandparents.

"Candy loves playing beach volleyball, that's why she notices the rain."

"We get plenty of sunshine for Candy's games." Carolyn added quickly. "And usually the rain in Boston is in the evening or later in the afternoon. This morning was lovely!"

"True enough." Brad conceded. "But I still don't like getting wet!"

"Never mind, dear, it'll probably let up by the time we leave." Emily consoled him.

Soon Carolyn waved goodbye and headed home to Schooner Bay and the Captain. The rain tapered off as she drove, and by the time she was going through the small town, it was more of a mist than anything. Carolyn decided to take it as a sign. Perhaps the rain the last few days wasn't all because the Captain was annoyed with her. While going up the road to Gull Cottage, the setting sun broke through the clouds and lit up the clouds still hanging low along the cliffs. Just as she reached Gull Cottage, a brilliant rainbow appeared, its end apparently going down right into the front yard. Catching her breath, Carolyn parked, and, taking the parcel, stepped hesitantly through the gate. She had never before seen a rainbow this close. The glowing bands were actually touching the grass in front of her, and bathing the house in vivid color.

"Gull Cottage is the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow." She said aloud. "How lucky I am to have found it."

"I would say, how lucky I am that you found it."

Carolyn whirled around at the sound of the Captain's rich, deep voice behind her. She clutched the parcel to her, and stared up at him, her eyes wide.

When she said nothing, the Captain uncharacteristically hesitated a moment, then said quietly, "Forgive me, My Dear, but I must say this. You look more beautiful at this moment, with the radiance of the rainbow covering you, than anyone I have ever seen before."

Carolyn blinked, swallowed, then tore her gaze away and realized that she was actually in the path of the rainbow. "Thank-you." She whispered, at last. Then she summoned up a smile, "I must be in Oz."

"Oz?" The Captain looked blank.

"Hmm. A place somewhere over the rainbow. Only in this case, we're in the rainbow."

"The drops of mist are clinging to your hair, making it look like you have a halo."

Chuckling, Carolyn said, "Hardly. Possibly fitting for you, but not me."

The rainbow faded, and the two turned to walk into the house. Carolyn's heart was singing. He had appeared, and was talking to her again as if the last week had never happened! The door opened before Carolyn and the Captain ushered her into the front hall.

"I have started a fire in the bedroom, knowing it has been damp for the last few days. Perhaps I should have started it in the living room, but it is late, and you have traveled far . . ."

"Thank-you." Carolyn wasn't sure whether to just hand him the gift or wait, but she decided she was not going to give it to him here in the entryway. "Captain . . . I would like to get out of these clothes. Could you join me in twenty minutes? Maybe we could have a drink?"

"I shall bring some Madeira." He said promptly.

Carolyn smiled. "That would be nice."

"Did you have supper, Madam?"

"Well, just some toast, actually, before leaving Boston. I believe Martha has some cheesy things that can be warmed up."

"Cheesy things?" The Captain's tone showed his disdain.

"Little tarts. Quiche. Egg and cheese." Carolyn gave up trying to describe them. "They're in the fridge on the bottom shelf. You could put them in the oven at 300 degrees for a few minutes until they're warm. Please? You might enjoy them, too."

"Very well, Madam." He stood and watched as she went up the stairs, then shook his head, wondering how he had turned into the galley crew.

Carolyn, feeling his gaze on her as she ascended, was also wondering how she had the nerve to boss him around . . . Especially when they had not spoken for days! Well, she would make it up to him!

Promptly in twenty minutes, there was a knock on her bedroom door.

"Are you decent, Madam?"

"Of course." She replied. "Come in, Captain."

When he entered, a tray in his hands, she was sitting curled up in the chair by the fireplace. Her smile flashed as she bent forward and touched the table she had pulled closer. A second chair had been drawn nearer for him.

"A lovely fire, Captain. And thank-you for the food and drink."

"My pleasure." He spoke sincerely as he settled into his place.

For a moment both were silent as they sipped their wine and sampled Martha's delicious cooking. Then Carolyn took a deep breath.

"I bought you something in Boston." She said.

"You did?" Surprise was evident in his voice.

"Yes." She passed the bag over to him.

He accepted it wonderingly, and slowly opened it. As he moved aside the tissue, Carolyn spoke again. "You said you have yet to see a locked Captain's Log . . . "

The Captain was thunderstruck when he beheld the beautiful object in his hands. "My Dear . . . What have you done?"

"Don't you like it?" Carolyn asked anxiously. "It's . . . It's made from the wood of a . . ."

". . . Monkey-Puzzle Tree." He finished, and his hand trembled slightly as it smoothed over the wooden cover, the words "Captain's Log" and the imprinted schooner. He fumbled with the key in the clasp, and then opened it to view the pages inside. Without speaking, he turned a couple, then noticed the pen, and slid it out to examine it. Seeing his name engraved on it, his eyes sought hers.

Carolyn smiled tremulously. "It could only be yours. The book, the pen . . . Captain, I'm so sorry for invading your privacy . . ."

"My Dear Mrs. Muir," He finally found his voice. "I never received a more fitting gift in all my days."

"You like it?" Relief poured over her.

"I shall treasure it forever." For a moment he looked down at it again, then his eyes searched hers. "But, forgive me, but such a treasure is something that you can ill-afford as a general rule, Madam."

"It was on sale." Carolyn felt almost giddy now that the initial moment was over. "He told me a bit about the pen and the markings on it. They're . . . "

"Celtic love knots." Again the Captain filled in the answer as he carefully placed the book on the table, and turned the pen in his fingers to examine it more closely.

Carolyn faltered a bit. "L-love knots? He called them a knot chain."

The Captain's face relaxed into a faint smile, and he looked at her fully. "They are love knots . . . Like the ones on my father's ring. Let me show you . . . " He disappeared, and then in an instant was back with the ring in his hand.

Holding out both the ring and the pen, he explained the cords. "These are love knots because the unbroken lines of the Celtic knot chain symbolize eternal love and life."

Carolyn nodded, recognizing the likeness and the symbolism.

"A Celtic marriage was seen as the union of two complementary forces – Masculine and feminine – To create new life and harmony. So the unbroken lines twist around each other in certain ways." He examined the pen again. "I also see waves on here, and a fish."

"The shopkeeper said it was supposed to be the Salmon of Wisdom from a Celtic legend."

"Ah, yes! The legend of Fionn . . . in the Celtic mind-set, there is a close connection between the salmon and wisdom, perhaps because of the life cycle of the salmon itself. At breeding time the salmon returns to the place of its origin, fighting against the flow of the river, in order to breed and to sustain the species. Thus the connection of wisdom is apparent in our own struggle to understand ourselves and our environment - to fight preconceived ideas, to fashion new ideas, to keep our own ignorance at bay, and the steadfast will to keep going despite many a setback."

"I . . . I suppose that is why I was told that the pen links the past to the future."

"How meaningful for us." His eyes were on hers again.

Carolyn found herself yearning to be in his arms. She longed to throw herself at him, and suspected that he would be able to catch her and that she would feel his strong arms around her . . . Yet neither one moved. What if he was an illusion? What if his song did mean that he desired her, but knew it was impossibility for them to ever touch? Could she have been wrong? Were all her thoughts this past summer merely wishful thinking?

"My mother told my father that with the love knots on this ring, it would be a lifetime token of love, to say nothing of the emerald which is associated with beauty, health, happiness, and faithfulness. And the words 'mo anam cara,' of course, meaning 'friend of my soul' My Dear, I would like you to have this ring."

Stunned, Carolyn stared at him as he held it out to her. He urged it on her, and slowly she shook her head, demurring. "I . . . I can't, Captain." She whispered. "I'm so sorry. But if I took it and wore it, Martha would see it, and she would recognize it instantly. What could I say to her?"

"BLAST Martha!" His eyes turned a steely blue and they narrowed as he considered his limited options. It would be the very height of impropriety to consider touching her in any way unless they were married or betrothed. In his present state, he could not even tender such a suggestion. Of course, were he to offer her a dream, perhaps as a Christmas gift, and make his honorable intentions quite clear to her at that time . . . Yes, that would be a way around their dilemma! And until that time, he was free to court her as any gentleman would court the lady of his dearest affection!

"Maybe . . . " Carolyn closed her eyes against a sudden rush of hot, happy tears; "Maybe I can accept the ring later. For now, perhaps you could wear it . . . For me?" She opened her shining eyes to find him only inches away from her.

As he slid the ring onto his finger, never taking his eyes from hers, he spoke in a velvety tone, "Until I can place it on your finger, I will wear it for you. I searched for you in a dozen port cities, My Dear. I sought you . . . Not knowing you hadn't been born yet. I even dreamed about you. But I never found you until you came to Gull Cottage last year. A hundred years of seeking . . . "

"I've had those dreams, too." Carolyn confessed, happiness breaking over her in waves. "Romantic dreams; frustrating dreams. An element of loss and longing, of wanting you but being unable to reach you." Then she daringly reached out and framed his bearded cheeks between her hands and gazed into his eyes. The color had softened and now his eyes were tender and protective. His hands came up to cover hers.

"You know." He said, wonderingly. "You know we can touch."

"Yes. You have given me enough hints. I am a little slow, but . . . Yes, I know." Her voice was soft. "I know you, Captain Daniel Gregg, but I don't know you. When you think of all that you have lost, does it hurt you to remember the past? What do you think about?"

"Right now, all I think about is you, My Dear. I do not know the how or the why of it, but I know well enough that you and I are linked by forces greater than we can grasp. You are mine for now and for evermore. My friend, my soul mate, my love. Mo anam cara."


End file.
